Harry And His Manhood
by The Three Muskequeers
Summary: Harry Potter... With a twist.


Chapter One

"Hagrid, can you come in with me?" Harry asked eagerly as he stood in front of Ollivander's Wand Shop for the first time. He eyed the sketchy store with peeling paint and grimy windows.

"'Arry... I think it's best if you do this alone," Hagrid mumbled. He scratched his beard awkwardly, his beady brown eyes not meeting Harry's.

"But Hagrid-" Harry began.

"A wizard should get ter know his wand... alone. You'll find out why soon 'nuff," he said, patting his giant, pink umbrella, sending silvery sparks flying from the tip. Before Harry could respond, Hagrid had vanished into the bustling crowd. Confused, Harry simply shook his head and turned to enter the small shop when he suddenly found himself nose to nose with a smirking boy with white blonde hair.

"Draco, sweetie, mummy's so proud! Eight and a half inches!" an older woman said to the boy, squeezing his arm tightly as the boy waved around a blackthorn wand smugly. Harry watched intently as the boy allowed her to pluck the wand from his hand and examine it carefully. "Eight and a half inches... that's longer then your father's..." she muttered thoughtfully before saying, "It's very nice, Draco, take good care of it!"

"Yes, mum," the boy replied proudly before tucking it safely away in his pocket. Harry watched the pair walk off and join the throng of witches and wizards flowing through Diagon Alley, thoroughly confused by the mother's comparison of wand lengths.

_Does size really matter here?_ he thought to himself. _I hope mine isn't terribly small..._

With a worried look on his face he turned toward the wand shop once again, determined to make sure he was given a wand up to par with this strange new society's standards.

Harry walked into the shop, even more worried than he had been before. However, he didn't have any time to be scared of his wand's size, as he found himself standing barely two inches away from a withered old man with wide, silvery eyes and wispy white hair.

"Harry Potter," said the old man in a raspy, weak voice, "I have been expecting you. I am Mr. Ollivander, and I will be assisting you in your search for the right wand."

Harry was thoroughly confused. "Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander, sir, but why do we have to search for a wand? Can't I just choose one?" Harry asked the rather odd old man.

Mr. Ollivander laughed mirthlessly as he escorted Harry down a narrow hallway to the enclosed back area of the dark, shabby store. "Oh, no, Mr. Potter. You'll see. No need to worry. I expect great things from you… Your father, you see…"

The old man continued to murmur to himself as he walked, seemingly unaware of the boy following close behind him. "James, yes, James... nice wand, very nice... good size, and not too flexible, mhm..."

He threw a sharp glance at Harry over his shoulder, looking him up and down. "Promising... Very promising," he noted quietly. Harry, who had been trying to make sense of the old man's words, suddenly realized they had entered a rather large, circular room with walls covered from top to bottom with shelves of long, rectangular boxes. He curiously reached for one hoping to peek inside, but was stopped by Mr. Ollivander, who had clasped his long, knobby fingers around Harry's wrist. "Please, Mr. Potter," he said, "sit down," his free hand gesturing to a small wooden stool placed at the center of the room. He reluctantly moved away from the boxes and sat. "Alright, Harry," Mr. Ollivander rasped, "Well, as you know, the wand chooses the wizard, yes?" Harry did not know this, but nodded his head nonetheless, hoping not to seem like a fool. "Alright, Harry," the old man repeated, "then let's get started. Let's see which wand is your perfect fit. Close your eyes, Mr. Potter. Open your hand."

Wanting to get it over with, Harry shut his eyes and unfurled his hand.

When the sleek, short wand touched Harry's hand, his blood went cold. He began to shiver as little ice shreds formed on his nose and lips. He felt his ears and fingers begin to go numb.

"No, no, no, not the one for you, I see..." Mr. Ollivander ripped the wand from his hand, returning Harry to his regular body temperature.

"Mr. Ollivander, wh-what was that?" Harry asked nervously.

"Oh, well, Harry, it was the opposite of what we want to happen. MY dear boy, has NO ONE told you of how the wand chooses you?"

Still shivering from the memory of holding his first wand, Harry shook his head shamefully.

"Mr. Potter... A wand is a priceless object to any wizard - they are nearly irreplaceable... Almost like a part of you..." Mr. Ollivander glanced into Harry's eyes, questioning his understanding.

"Excuse me, but I still don't understand. I just found out I was a wizard yesterday, and I don't even know what a wand does."

"Harry, to put it simply... A wand is your dick. It's your dick, Harry, the same size it will be in the prime of your life, same yield, same everything. The bigger your dick, the bigger your wand. That is why Hagrid's wand is an umbrella! He couldn't manage with a 10 inch stick like most young boys!" Ollivander stopped his speech, keeling over and catching his breath.

Harry was speechless. Quickly, Mr. Ollivander grabbed a pile of varying sized wands, placed them in a pile on the table and sat down.

"Now where were we?"

"How about this one Harry?" Mr. Ollivander whispered, handing Harry his thirtieth wand.

"Are we almost done yet, Mr. Ollivander? Isn't there a way for me to tell you my penis size, so we could just be done with this?"

The old gray man shook his head and furrowed his brow. "That, my dear boy, would sick the Death Eaters on me. Breaching personal harassment, they'd say. Just grab the wand."

Harry rolled his eyes and reached out his hand. As the 10 inch wand rolled into his grasp, Harry was surprised.

Nothing.

"Mr. Ollivander, I don't feel anything. Is this my wand?"

"No, Harry," Mr. Ollivander jumped out of his chair and grabbed the wand, "It means we've gone too far... But the only one I skipped was... But it can't be..."

"What is it?" Harry croaked, his voice box wrecked from the countless times of being frozen and thawed.

Mr. Ollivander disappeared among the hundreds of shelves in the shop. After a few minutes, Harry heard footsteps slowly rounding the corner.

Mr. Ollivander was holding a thin black box, obviously containing a wand like all the others. The odd exception was the keyhole in the center.

"Do you think this is the one, Mr. Ollivander?"

"Shhh... Don't talk, Mr. Potter... Just hold..." He reached into his shirt and grabbed the necklace he was wearing - a key.

Mr. Ollivander cracked open the wand box and showed it to Harry.

"You must pick it up, boy. This might be it."

Hesitantly, Harry went for the wand.

The moment Harry's hand was near the box, he felt a short tingling sensation in his feet. It crept up to his ankles, past his knees and settled in his crotch. It wasn't uncomfortable - just odd.

"Mr. Ollivander..."

Harry began to gyrate, shaking his hips in all directions. The scrawny boy was thrown out of the chair and onto the floor, causing him to drop the wand and end the spell.

"This is it, boy! I never would have suspected - nine and three-quarter inches... Unyielding...It's the same size as You-Know-Who's... Never had another like him..." His words came to a stop.

"You-Know-Who?"

"You must be going now, boy. Take your wand - but keep it stowed away. Don't show it off just yet." Ollivander ran into the shadows of the shelves, leaving a befuddled and uneasy Harry.

Harry stepped out of the shop a new man. Trying not to draw attention to himself, he tucked the wand into his belt and walked into the crowd. Among him, he began to notice the sizes of wands around him. A pair of teen wizards walked the alley, each holding a different size - one boy one about eight inches, the other around five.

_Poor guy_, Harry thought.

"There is my main man!" Hagrid appeared out of no where, waving his wand in one hand and a cage in the other. I got you a present, 'Arry. 'Er name's Hedwig. I've taken a real likin' to 'er." The cage was occupied by a white snowy owl, staring into Harry's eyes.

"Thanks, Hagrid! I got my wand too!" Harry glanced at Hagrid's wand.

"Oh, Harry. You gotta remember I'm half-giant. Don't be jealous - it's genetic. What size are you?"

Harry quickly glanced around and pulled it out, showing it to Hagrid.

"Nine and three quarter inches, unyielding. Or at least, that's what the man said."

"Excellent, Harry! That sounds familiar... But above average, just like your father!" Hagrid handed Harry the cage and patted his back and came to Harry's ear. "You know, I've seen some wands about five feet in my day. Don't worry - they don't end up gettin' too many witches."

Harry and Hagrid chuckled, walking towards a dimly lit pub to eat a meal of celebration.


End file.
